


The Nuance of Distraction

by FullMetamorphosis, skydork (klismaphilia)



Series: The Tragic Tale Unfolding [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alexei is so done, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anakin Skywalker is still a brat, Bad Decisions, Brotherly Love, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Inappropriate Use of the Force, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Tension, So is Padme, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Walking In On Someone, Well that means hate, and Obi-Wan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 20:40:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7403305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullMetamorphosis/pseuds/FullMetamorphosis, https://archiveofourown.org/users/klismaphilia/pseuds/skydork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's like you're intentionally trying to sabotage my romance."</p><p>Or: The five times Anakin "accidentally" ruins Alexei trying to have a moment with Padme and the one time Alexei walks in on him with Obi-Wan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Nuance of Distraction

**Author's Note:**

> This fits in the same AU as LSSM, but is more of a standalone thing for kicks. Also, everyone is gay. Just because. Though you have to admit, if they all WERE gay, ROTS would never have happened and the universe might still be happy.
> 
> On another note: I blame Cards Against Humanity for all of this.  
> ~ Haiden

Anakin Skywalker was annoyed.

 

Or, perhaps, annoyed wasn’t exactly the most prompt word to describe it, although seeing Alexei rest their hand along the inside of Padme’s thigh, pressing closer to her in a way indicative of lustful promises, had been more than distracting. Force, it was nearly infuriating. Not because _it’s kriffing Padme,_ and she had often been the subject of his affections for years, but because hours later, the Force was surging with a pleasure that was so abrupt and intrusive there was no ignoring it.

 

The thought of Padme with Alexei, was, overall, not an unpleasant one. As weird as it felt for Anakin to think of Alexei naked, he couldn’t help admitting that the curve of their body would fit nicely against Padme’s, and that the arch of Padme’s back as her head tilted against their shoulder was so _sensual_ it would be the envy of any Jedi. Of course, that didn’t prevent other thoughts from slipping in- less sanct, visions of himself and Obi-wan, his master pinning him flat against the wall of their shared quarters, weight against him and mouth along his bared shoulder, his head tilting to the side without question at the promise of more-

 

 _That’s not the point,_ the young Jedi has to remind himself again, as his fingers skim over the edge of the padawan braid still lightly hanging from behind his ear, the end teasing his collar as he plays with it. The point is (Anakin tries to remember, although it takes a few moments) that Alexei and Padme seem to be enjoying themselves a bit too much. It isn’t like Alex to lower their shields, isn’t like them to _rub their passionate lovemaking in his face,_ although Anakin’s half certain they’re doing it to spite him.

 

That can be fixed easily enough, though. It’s precisely why the nineteen year old finds himself standing outside a closed door, his fingers close to tapping a rhythmic knock against the cold metal, eyes sparkling with mischief. He has half a mind to think that he should wipe the mirthful grin off his face, positive that Alexei is going to be bristling by the time they open the door. But it is, in fact, the moan from inside that finally catches his attention, the thought of-

 

 _Oh._ Well, that was a new one. It isn’t enough to bring a picture through, but he can sense it, Alexei bent over their desk in front of Padme, their breasts unbound and pressed tightly against the Senator’s, chest heaving and gasps leaving their reddened, bitten lips. There are hands beneath their thighs, spreading their legs apart as Padme kneels between them, ministrations fervent and wild, their thighs bitten with purple and red…

 

Anakin glowers, a bit, if only for the faintest of seconds. Then, his smile immediately overtakes his face again as he taps on the door quickly. “Alex! I need to fix your maintenance droid! I heard from Master Osiris it’s been causing a disturbance.”

 

They don’t even hear the knock at first. Not at _all_ , because Padme is doing _glorious_ things between their legs, and they can’t think. They’re bare from the knees up; one hand is laid over a bare breast, squeezing it roughly, while the other threads fingers into Padme’s hair and tries to drag her up to _just where they need that pressure, those glorious lips_ -

 

There’s a nip, just at the inside crease of their leg, and Alexei can feel their eyes rolling back as their mouth falls open from the sheer pleasure. Their breath leaves in one huge gasp. “ _Padme_ ,” is all they can stammer, followed by a more desperate “ _Padme!_ ” as they feel her hot breath against them, closer to their clit-

 

And then they hear the knock and they nearly _sob_ , back of their head hitting the desk as they tangle fingers into their hair, hiding their face from view. They can’t _believe_ they aren’t just crying, because _of all the fucking times_ , he had to be _there_ , and god dammit they need this, need this so bad, they’re so _sensitive_ and they need her, need Padme to touch them, more, _more_ . . .

 

They can sense Padme rising, adjusting herself, but Alexei can’t be bothered when their chest is heaving, when they’re so devoid of that touch, and- _good god come back touch me anywhere please just give me that touch_ \- “Anakin,” is all they can groan aloud. “It’s the _evening hours_ . Please don’t . . . _please_ . . .”

 

Padme has to hide the tiny smile that isn’t at all self-satisfied at the way Alexei is moaning, practically keening, her usually poised and calm demeanor in place almost instantly as she steps toward the doorway. The sound of Alexei’s whimpers, whines that were almost too loud, were calling to her like some sort of wretched curse, begging her to come back, pin them down and have her way with them.

 

It’s a thought that she’s been too well acquainted with over the past few weeks, one that seems to constantly be pushing at her thoughts, ever since the mission where Alexei had accompanied her to a senate meeting. All she’d been able to think about was their long, well muscled limbs, tanned skin and soft brown hair, fierce green eyes desperate with lust… in passing, of course. There was no more expected than her ability to push those desires to the back of her mind, particularly when around the Jedi.

 

She never mentioned to Alexei that Anakin had been secretly teasing her about it for weeks. Not that it wasn’t expected- she knew Ani more than well enough for that- and opening the door to see her old friend standing there, a rather devious smile on his face, was enough to assure her that they really shouldn’t have expected anything _less._

 

“Padme,” Anakin greets her, nothing but cordiality in his tone for once, which is so shockingly out of place for him that it’s surreal. But oh, she can tell exactly what he’s playing at- reading Anakin has been far too easy lately, his emotions always rattled and surrounding him like a cloud. If she ignored them, there was only a nagging suspicion that the outbursts of rage or need would’ve been worse. Still, the raised eyebrow is off-putting, at the very least.

 

“Ani,” she smiles the best she can, trying to ignore the heat creeping into her cheeks, all too aware of just how easily the moment had been ruined, and unsurprised that it was Anakin Skywalker who had done it. “What can we help you with?”

 

“I’m here to fix Alexei’s maintenance droid. I was supposed to come earlier in the day, but I got a bit… sidetracked. Something told me I needed to check in about it before the night ended.” There’s an infuriating subtlety to the tone that implies he was more than aware of what was going on.

 

Padme sidesteps to let him in- there’s no deterring Anakin when he’s deadset on doing something. “It’s been awhile,” she says. “But as you know, Alexei’s recently come back from a mission and-”

 

“Oh, don’t let me stop you.” A chuckle. “Actually, y’know, I should probably go… ‘s a bit late to be tinkering with droids anyway. Have a nice evening, m’lady.” Anakin steps back toward the door, slipping out into the hallway.

 

Padme barely manages to relax her shoulders before he’s poking his head back in and snapping, “Oh, tell Alexei they need to work on their shielding technique. Jedi aren’t supposed to have attachments, after all.”

* * *

 

It’s getting near impossible to focus on their meditation. Sure, like it was ever easy, but this time in particular was proving . . . _difficult_. Maybe it had to do with being away on so many missions, never having such free space and quietness . . . and quiet it is, almost entirely so, and the light behind their eyes is perfect in that little room just around evening . . .

 

But no no no, there’s no denying, it’s absolutely _Padme_ . She’d been teasing them all day; sneaking out before breakfast instead of staying in bed with them, winking at them when she passed by during their training - even messing up one of their katas when, in _what must have been a clear coincidence no fucking doubt_ , she walked by and happened to _slip up her skirt_ at _just the right moment_.

 

And then there was nothing but those perfectly trim ankles and those sheer purple stockings and _oh, bantha hork, oh . . ._ and their face planting into the ground.

 

Dammit, it’s like the Order said: _attachments lead to distraction_ . Well, fuck it, attachments led to something to protect, but _fuck it all!_ Padme was pressing their buttons on _purpose_ . And now, of course, they’re completely unhinged from their meditation just _thinking_ about it, half angry and half frustrated at the completely sloppy state they’re in now, and then they hear the _goddamn mother fucking door open_ and they sense her. They sense her all too goddamn _well_.

 

“You’re a _minx_ ,” they say as they open one eye and stare straight ahead, their back to the door. “You did all of that on _purpose_ . Good _lord_ , if any of the other Jedi’s had peeked into my mind, they would’ve been in for the shock of their _lives_ . _Kriff_ , Padme.”

 

“I thought Jedi were good at keeping their emotions quiet,” the woman half purrs, only taking a few seconds to cross the room and lean down by their side, her eyes skirting across their lithe form, the displayed muscles peeking from underneath their tunics, chest unbound, much to both her surprise and delight. It only takes a few seconds before she’s leaning forward, lips pressed against the skin of Alexei’s neck, curling into a smile as she flicks her tongue across the unmarred flesh.

 

Alexei lets out a moan, and it’s more than a pleasantry for her. Padme’s been used to the spotlight, being constantly watched, threatened, observed… and the thought of somebody walking in to catch them like this is somehow less dangerous than it might have been once upon a time. Still, the nervousness clouds her mind for a few seconds- and only a few, before she finally thinks, _the Senate be damned,_ and allows her hands to roam over their shoulders, down to the hem of their robes, undoing the belt from around their waist.

 

There’s an instantaneous gasp of surprise that has Padme smiling again, less tight and more easy now, parting the fabric away from Alexei’s chest and their well-defined body, chiseled features unsteady under her hands, quivering just enough to be erotic. She isn’t certain how much time passes before Alexei’s pressing forward, and Padme’s hand is between their thighs, the other grasping their hipbone to hold them steady as she molds her form against theirs, mouth teasing the shell of their ear.

 

Tugging the lobe between her teeth only rewards her with a pleased hum, as Alexei’s hands find the curve of her chest and slide around her own breasts, tucked away beneath rich fabric so that they can’t be seen. There’s nimble fingers at the line of her corset, undoing the ties as Alexei looks up with an expression of lust…

 

… and then practically go rigid at the sound of a clang from somewhere within the meditation room.

 

_They cannot believe the fucking nerve._

 

Their Force is tearing at the floor-to-ceiling window curtains before they even realize what’s going on. An old defense mechanism - that _must_ be it, because they don’t recognize the sudden mad-pounding alarm in their head as the curtains are ripped down to the floor, as scraps wind around somebody’s waist, as somebody _shouts_ as they’re hoisted into the air-

 

And they’re stopping, staring at Padme with their hands still tucked into her corset. It takes them a long, _long_ moment to realize what’s going on.

 

. . . and then they _laugh_.

 

“For _fuck’s sake_ ,” they stammer as they chuckle and go limp, forehead braced against Padme’s chest. “I didn’t even know I _had_ that fucking instinct. Way to go, Anakin goddamn Skywalker. You found a new fucking _tic_.”

 

They look up at their handiwork - that being Anakin Skywalker, suspended _by the open window, tied up in the ruined curtains, upside-down_ \- and raise a brow to the struggling padawan. “You _do_ realize I’m telling Obi-wan about this, right?” they ask in a drawl. They look around as they pull Padme further onto their lap, hiding her flushed face from view. “What the fuck did you drop, a water jug? You do realize those things make _noise_ ? What were you even _doing_ here, you little voyeur? This is the second time in a fucking _month_.”

 

“Master Windu said they were having issues with the pipes in the meditation rooms.” It’s an obvious lie, although that should’ve been certain from the get-go, and the rather gangly young man isn’t exactly certain what the point of making an excuse really is. He attempts to shrug his shoulders half-heartedly, offering them a smile, before a short, “Really though, don’t mind me. I’ll just mind my own business over here while you, um…” Anakin isn’t even certain he should say the last word. “Fuck.”

 

There’s an exasperated groan, and even Padme has to roll her eyes at the comment. She’s unable to find any surprise, as usual, not even fazed at the obvious prodding the younger Jedi sends in Alexei’s direction, before gathering the force and attempting to untangle himself from the mess of curtains.

 

It takes a few moments before there’s any success, though either route ultimately would’ve ended the same- Anakin Skywalker landing on the floor in an undignified heap. He pulls himself back to his feet, taking out a commlink from within his robes and making some sort of (obvious bantha shit) communication into the empty line.

 

“Seriously, Alexei, it’s like you have to be everywhere I am. I’m not certain you aren’t stalking me at this point.” An eyeroll from Alexei, looking over at him as their hands finally unwind from around Padme’s waist, groaning. “No, seriously- don’t mind me. I have places to be anyway. Can probably come back to look at the pipes another time.”

 

“Oh, _yes_ ,” they say. “The _pipes_ . In the _meditation room_. That NOBODY ASIDE FROM ME USES.” The last part is nearly shouted into the air as they flop onto their back, hardly caring that Padme is sitting on their very-crossed lap and that Anakin is trying to cross the room without making a sound - and while trying to hide is very, very obvious bit of pleasure at his deviousness.

 

They squeeze their eyes shut. Through the Force, they can reach up and get a firm hold between Anakin’s legs - one that makes him stop in place. They grin as they sense him shivering.

 

“You _do_ realize,” they say, bluntly, “I could castrate you right now and _nobody_ would be the wiser. I’ve done _worse_ during a trigger-induced rampage.”

 

“Actually…” the younger padawan attempted to begin, only cut off by a rather painful squeeze to the region of his groin that causes him to muffle a moan- _kriff the thought that pain would actually be more than pleasurable right now-_ “I think they would be the wiser… you have this thing about dropping your shields, Alex. I mean, I’m pretty sure half the temple can feel your arousal by now, and more than that can probably sense how angry you are…” an awkward laugh. “I could always tell Osiris too.”

 

A pause. “Anakin,” they say, even more deadpan than before. “My shields are _always_ up. Y’know, as precaution against being _mindfucked again_ . The only reason _you_ can break through them is because you’re halfway to dark jedi, and because you’re the mother fucking Chosen One. Now do me a favor and get the fuck out of here or the children you would have had will fucking _feel it_ as I rip off your balls and their alternate universes go up in fucking _flames_.”

 

“Yes-” it’s cut off rather quickly. “L-leaving…”

 

The second the door shuts there’s a tiny frown from Padme. “Um, actually, Alexei… you really are causing a bit of a disturbance in the force. I overheard someone complaining about it the other night.”

 

And that was that.

* * *

 

 

To be fair, they had reason to be upset. Alexei isn’t sure how long it was, but it was a good week before they even _tried_ talking to Padme about it, let alone Anakin. To think that their shields were so compromised, _that severely_ \- it was embarrassing. That, and also _terrifying_ , though they weren’t nearly ready to explain to either of them the extent of it. All they needed to know was that they’d been manipulated without those shields before, and that was that.

 

But when they finally _did_ talk to Padme, it was less the ordeal than they thought. It was a simple explanation and that was that. It doesn’t mean that they’re crawling all over her, though. They still . . . don’t know how to control it, and that’s not something they can allow, a lack of control.

 

So, naturally, they bury themselves in other things. Which is why when Padme finally walks in a month later, the first thing she can see - they _know_ \- is the flour covering their front, the stretch of their apron over their taut chest and nipples, and the shudders they can’t repress as they feel her energy sweep into the room.

 

They look up, surprised, gulping. “H-Hey,” they whisper. “Um . . . I-I was just . . . working?”

 

“You bake?” There’s surprise laying in her tone, but it’s overshadowed by the lilt to her voice that seems particularly pleasant as she half leans against the counter, watching them turn back to the half-kneaded dough on the counter, their eyes wide as their hands press back into the sticky bread. Padme has to admit that it’s rather cute to see Alexei covered in flour, holding themselves less rigidly than they usually do, chest bare beneath the apron.

 

She isn’t sure exactly how they’d react to being labelled as such though- because, as far as their character went, Alexei was anything but cute. So Padme just smiles, and adds, softly, “Aren’t you going to come say hi to me?” It’s flirtatious, enough that it surprises even her, but she’s blinking away the tiredness from her eyes as the Jedi finally turns to her, gives a tiny hum.

 

“You look rather delectable like this,” there’s a slight slyness in the hidden pun, as Padme’s eyes fall to their hands, and she leans across the counter, reaching out to grab hold of one quickly, pulling it closer to her face until she can press lips against the warm skin, eyelids fluttering when her eyes wander back to their face. “Is this a new thing or have you always baked?”

 

She can hear them swallow. She can feel the shake of their hand. “E-Ever since I left the Sith,” they stammer. “They wouldn’t train me until they found a suitable master, and they searched for Osiris for weeks. In the meantime, I learned to bake. I’ve gotten-” they take a deep breath, one they release with a shake. “-gotten . . . decent. At. It.”

 

“My mother used to bake when I was a child,” Padme replied, smiling. “Now it’s mostly my handmaidens. I never really learned myself. Still, it takes effort. I can tell you’re calmer now than you have been in awhile.” She pulls away, standing to her feet again, walking around the counter until she can pull them close with a tiny glance of happiness. “Perhaps you should bake for me. I was rather hoping we could stay together for a bit. It’s been too long since I’ve seen you.”

 

“Yeah . . . yeah,” they nod before pressing their face against her shoulder. “M’sorry, just . . . exhausted. I’ve been . . . busy. Lots of stuff inside my head. Plus the missions and all, they’re . . . yeah. Anyways,” they push away and go back to the dough. “I was just working on some bread,” they explain as they get back to kneading. “After this I was going to work on a cake. Or, well, I figured I’d look for you, too. I just . . . feel like it’s too much, to feel like I want so much but can’t reveal it. It’s complicated. I’ll explain, someday. Just not today.”

 

They pick up their ball of dough and drop it into its tray, pressing it down into every fold and corner until it sat nicely in the pan. They open the oven door and slide the tray in; they close it with a bump of their hips before reaching across the counter for the flour and dry ingredients. “I never had somebody to teach me,” they say as they start measuring out ingredients. “My parents died when I was young, and I never spent much time with my adopted ones. So I taught myself. I don’t remember who recommended it, but I just got tired of eating the same gruel as the other Jedi and decided to make myself some bread. It was pretty bad at first, but I got a lot better. Determination is always something I’ve prided myself in.”

 

A chuckle. Alexei looks over and gives Padme a small smile. “Anyways. Ever since then, it’s helped me to relax. I don’t get to do it so often anymore, since I’m trying to train more and more each day, but I try to find time when I can, y’know? And . . . well, it’s stupid, but it helps me shield. It’s gotten so mindless that I can build up my defenses all over again.”

 

“I know how tough it is to build defenses after trauma,” Padme says finally, reaching forward and grabbing Alexei by the waist, her form pressing against theirs from behind, chest against their back and hands solidly lying across their stomach, hugging them to her. Without hesitation, she presses a kiss against their shoulderblade, letting fingers curl in their apron as she breathes heavily against their skin. “You’re stronger than almost anyone I know, Alexei.”

 

At the look they give her, skeptically with a brow raised, she almost shoves them a bit as if to say _stop it!_ “I’m being entirely honest, Alex! It’s admirable. And besides, if it helps, your shields seem firm now. I can see how much you’ve tried to improve- though honestly, they didn’t really need improving in the first place. Not as long as you were comfortable.” A soft frown. “I know you weren’t, in many ways… but I hope that I can make you feel comfortable. In as many ways as the galaxy knows.”

 

Her lips touch their cheek, brush along their jaw, hand working through their hair to massage their sore temples. “I’m very happy that we can be together. You mean so much to me, Alex.” Her hair, half pulled undone, is falling against their skin, cheek pressed to their back, arms around them tighter than before.

 

And at that moment, there’s a shout from in the hallway that she isn’t sure if they should ignore, or be concerned with.

 

“ALEX!”

 

It’s loud, almost jovial, and Padme sighs, glancing over in amusement. “Honestly, we should be expecting this by now.”

 

One moment, things seemed almost perfect, like they were getting better. Just having’ Padme holding them, talking to them, with her untied hair flowing against their skin . . . it had felt so good. So good, and so welcome, they’d wanted to lean back and melt into her from it.

 

Aaaand yet. Of _course_. They don’t even know how he does it.

 

A flick of the hand. A shout. The sound of toppling objects, and all Alexei does is keep their hand outstretched as they gently shoulder off Padme’s grip and walk into their living room.

 

“I’m not even sure I have anything to _say_ ,” they drawl as they wave their free hand and open the door to their apartment. They’re floating in Anakin regardless - his limbs are outstretched, the Force pulling him apart, and they carefully turn him to face them as they start idly reaching around the room with their other hand, casually lifting each object one at a time to stack upon Skywalker’s chest. “I think we need a new rule: never, _ever_ , interrupt me during the evening and night hours. _Ever_.”

 

“Alright, alright- I get it. I had something- ow!- something I wanted to tell you. You wouldn’t believe it. Bad timing, I get it- lay off with the force, Alex. Who pissed in your juice this morning?”

 

“I don’t believe _you_ ,” they snap back as they carefully stack a lamp on his chest. “I’m _stressed_ , Anakin. It’s stressful enough trying to have a sex life as it is now, but to be interrupted all the time? It’s like you’re trying to sabotage my romance - not that you’re doing it on purpose, but that it’s just far too _bizarre_.”

 

They sigh and look back to where they’d left the kitchen. Padme’s there; she’s watching, looking from them to Anakin, where they’ve balanced the lamp on his chest and are beginning to add several larger texts to balance over his legs. “You can sit with me, hon,” they offer as they pat the couch next to them with a shrug and an annoyed, tired expression. “At least lean on me, sweetheart. That kitchen’s going to get hot from the oven.”

 

Padme isn’t entirely sure what she’s supposed to say to that- she manages a shrug, making her way over to Alexei, her shoes clicking against the floor a bit too loudly for her liking as she gingerly takes a seat on the side of the couch.

 

It’s not more than a second before Alexei’s pulling her closer to themselves either, laying a kiss against her forehead with an arm curling around her shoulders as she offers them a wink, before redirecting her attention to the currently trapped padawan on the ground.

 

“I’m really curious as to why you’re here this time,” she says carefully.

 

“I needed to talk to Alex-” the blonde half whines, trying to use the force to shove the books off of his chest as soon as they’re piled on. It’s successful, for the most part. “I needed advice, okay! That’s it- just advice! Bantha hork, Alexei, you- you _nerf-herder.”_ There’s an obvious glower on his face, groaning as he attempts to roll over in spite of the omnipresent objects. “I thought you’d be _interested_ to know the insane thing that happened today- but I suppose I should have anticipated this.”

 

A pause. “By the way, I’m happy you’re together again.”

 

“I’m happy too. _Anyways_ , it’s not like I can’t give advice. Just ask,” they say as they casually pick up a cup of pens from across the room - they were mostly dead anyway, so eh - and begin stacking each pen, one at a time, into the waistband of his pants. “Oh, and get comfortable,” they add as they pick up their books again in one fell swoop and place them back on his chest. “As far as I am concerned, you are a new fixture in my room for me to decorate as I please until I decide your intentions are completely innocent and without malice.”

 

“I think this classifies as inappropriate use of the force,” Anakin pipes up again, cheeks bright red as he squirms a bit against the ground. “I needed help, not to be transformed into human furniture. Although that is kinky- ow, okay, I get it!” A loud pause. “I may or may not have confessed something to someone I _really_ care about today and maybe have been _not entirely_ turned down.”

 

Hmm. Interesting. They start picking up and carrying over a group of half-empty cups, filled with the usual tap water, beer, and . . . other unidentified substances. “Fascinating. Explain.”

 

“Seriously, Alex, let me go-” there’s a cough and a groan as the cups grow a little closer, the younger Jedi having completely abandoned any thoughts of escape. “Okay, okay! I’ll tell you if you don’t dump those on me, and then I’ll _leave._ I won’t bother you for a month. That fair?” _Because this isn’t kriffing fair, you goldenrod._

 

“Whether these get poured on you or not is up to you,” they say as they slowly begin to stack them on his chest - one of the _particular ones_ closer to his mouth, just in case. “Now spit it out. You don’t get to make deals when you’re the one so desperate for advice.”

 

 _“I confessed to Master Obi-wan,”_ is snapped out quickly, followed by an exaggerated groan. “And not in the most subtle or… careful manner.” Anakin attempts the best he can to push the cups away from him, the force maneuvering them so they were at least not about to spill on his face, but rather the ground around him. “Now. Advice.”

 

They pause. Everything hovers in the air a little, shaky, as it sinks in. “Wait, you confessed to Obi-wan?” they stop. They add, “I mean . . . that’s very brave of you, yeah, but is he not the poster boy of the Jedi? He has as many feelings about anything as he does about that morning gruel.” They lean back and think. Then - they lean forward again, jostle the particularly suspicious cup closer to his face. “Okay, details. Details details details. The hell did he say? What did you tell him? And for that matter, _why_ did you tell him?”

 

“Well, about that… I was arguing about something with him and it just kind of… I don’t kriffing know, okay? It slipped out. It was something like ‘I really admire you and I want you to _mopa fa bimhee mee bayana_.’ If you… you know what that means.” There’s a cough, followed by an awkward attempt to roll out of the position again, glancing at Alexei from the corner of his eye, groaning. “And he may have said something about it being inappropriate, but that the sentiment wasn’t _entirely_ disgusting.”

 

“Mopa fah- actually, you know what? I don’t _want_ a translation,” they say. “So, he didn’t take it well?”

 

“No, the problem is he didn’t take it _badly._ I mean, it obviously didn’t go _well_ \- something about the Jedi code and how I need to control myself better- but he didn’t _reject_ it, or yell at me, or anything. He just told me to talk to him later because he had lessons to supervise. And- kriff, _I don’t know what I’m doing.”_

 

Huh. That’s . . . actually a surprise. Maybe Obi-wan’s not as unaware as he lets on. Alexei bites their lip. “Well . . . that sounds decent,” they say. “But you are up against some uneasy odds. After all, Obi-wan’s the poster boy for the Order. You’re not going to get away without a lecture, but all that being said, it doesn’t seem like he’s entirely turning you away either. Obi-wan’s the type to put things into simple terms, and clarify as quickly as possible. If he’s skirted around the question, then there’s a reason,” they pause, and think, and finally sigh.

 

“Well, I’m not going to tell you to get your hopes up, but I’m not going to tell you to just pout and whine about it either. Just go talk to him and be honest. S’not like you have much to hide now, anyway. At the very least, you’ll get an answer. And if he _does_ try to skirt the issue? Then _maybe_ you have a reason to get your hopes up. The only thing he _won’t_ talk about is his goddamn _feelings_.”

 

Sounds like a good enough answer . . . they think. Honestly, Anakin was just overreacting, maybe a smudge. Obi-wan wasn’t cruel; if it was a letdown, it’d be swift and shortly. If not . . . then things would turn out fine. Obi-wan was not one for theatrics. _Unlike me_ , they think as they look over Anakin with a sigh.

 

“Okay, okay . . . I’ll get everything off you. Just give me a- _whoa whoa whoa!_ ” they quickly swerve the suspicious cup _away_ from Anakin’s face as he sits up with a groan. “Come on, Anakin, you do _not_ want to know what was in that cup. Actually, I don’t know why I didn’t wash it out _sooner_ , but still. Are you trying to predetermine if you’ll be a catcher, or what? Just a tip - it’s not worth it when you don’t know it’s coming.”

 

“Is that supposed to mean- actually? Nevermind. I don’t think I want to talk to you any longer than necessary.” He struggles to get to his feet, turning back to the door and pressing a hand into his back with a groan. “No more human furniture. Alright. Have a nice evening.”

 

And with that there’s the sound of a door slamming and a hand is resting on Alexei’s back again, pulling them closer as Padme presses her head against their shoulder, smiles against their soft skin, slim fingers threading into their hair and tugging them closer to her.

 

“I think the bread’s almost done. Maybe now we can take some time to relax.”

* * *

 

The room is dark. Alexei’s so focused on the silhouette of Padme’s body that they can hardly think of anything else. It must be past midnight, now - it’s so late, they should be asleep. But all they can think of is her.

 

If they fall asleep, they’ll just wake up from nightmares.

 

Alexei sighs and stretches out against the bed. They stare up at the ceiling, only sliding an arm over Padme’s shoulders as they think. They’re never awake this late unless they’re sensing something they can’t feel, like there’s a _reason_ to be up - but more than anything, they just sense their own body, and that of Padme’s, alone in their bedroom. They can sense her heart beating; her breathing is slow, unhindered, though the thought that anything could cause her to _stop_ breathing makes them almost angry. They’re rolling over and pressing their chest against her back, their other arm around her waist, pulling her closer to them. Closer, until they’re skin to skin.

 

They feel Padme shifting. They sigh, and kiss the nap of her neck as they sweep her hair aside.

 

“Sorry,” they whisper softly. “Trouble sleeping. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

 

It’s an unusual feeling, the hand against her side and the mouth against the back of her neck, kissing skin half soaked by sweat and the mess of her hairline, where it’s been slung into a casual, loose braid over one shoulder. Padme isn’t used to it, hardly well acquainted with the feeling of waking up beside someone so often- and yet if anything, the frequency of it now is more of a solace than anything had been before.

 

She’s rolling over to face Alexei, pulling them into her arms and tucking her head against their chest, letting their arms encircle her body as a low noise of satisfaction emits from her throat. Padme would be self-conscious of the proximity in public, almost wary of the closeness under most given circumstances- but this is Alexei, someone who she loves, someone who she trusts and desires with every fiber of her being.

 

She can’t imagine being anywhere else.

 

And so, with that, the woman allows her hand to slide up to Alexei’s face, cupping the side of their jaw easily and so feather-light it seems like an illusion, her mouth pressing to their jawline, and then to the side of their neck, face resting at a tilt against the crook of their shoulder. It’s so hot in their embrace, and so vivid and vivacious alike that Padme can’t help wanting to remain with them like this as long as possible- in this moment with them.

 

But they all have to get up at some point. A part of Padme is tempted to try and ease them back into sleep, if only knowing that it was a futile effort. She reasons that it’s for that effect that she finally sits up, reaches down to wrap her hands around theirs, glance toward the fresher, the kitchen, the door, before allowing a small sigh. “I would be happy to stay awake with you, darling,” she says, her lips touching their calloused knuckles. “We could bake something? Or you could walk with me in the moonlight… though perhaps you’d rather stay here, like this. I can see you enjoy the quiet.”

 

“It’s better to lie here like this,” they say quietly. They tug on her hands, gently, to try and ease her back down. “Am I allowed to hold you? S’too early to get up . . . might as well talk,” they say. “It’s been a long time since we’ve been able to talk so easily, without anybody’s prying eyes. It’s funny - for as much as I resist the Order’s words, I still get preachings about attachment when I’m seen in public with you. It’s actually sort of funny.”

 

They sigh as Padme finally lies down, inhaling the scent of her hair as they rest their chin atop her head. Their hands slide up to run through her hair; it’s not long before they’re unwinding her braid, teasing it down her back. “I heard the senate meeting the other day got really harsh,” they say quietly. “Something about accusations from the Order? I didn’t hear the full story, I was . . . busy at the time,” they pause, and joke, “Apparently I’m the perfect substitute teacher for the younger students. That, or they didn’t like the idea of the Kameneva twins trying it alone.”

 

“Honestly, I wouldn’t blame the Order for that,” Padme gives a slight chuckle, her fingers splayed across an exposed section of Alexei’s chest, feeling the rise and fall of their breast beneath her hands with every breath. Something about the comment seems almost… indistinct, though, to her, and Padme eventually rolls over, a hand pressed to her forehead with a groan of annoyance. “Alex, was this the meeting in which the Order was accused of hiding secret plans from the Senate about installing Jedi into the proceedings?”  


The sigh they give as they avert their eyes is more than a dead giveaway. Padme is close to just hitting herself in the face lightly, a sense of frustration overwhelming her. “We talked about this- I mean, I understand you not being at _every_ meeting, but this is one where you were _definitely_ needed in attendance.” She cuts herself off, sitting up again and reaching over to flick the light on, rubbing her eyes roughly. Having them lined with dark circles tomorrow would be less than appropriate- Padme supposes it’s a day for excess makeup.

 

There’s a knock at the door, suddenly, and the sound of a shout, a thud prominent from in the hall almost as if whoever it was had run into the wall. “Alexei! We need to go! The Council’s going to be pissed at _me_ if you’re not out here in five minutes.”

 

 _Oh, for Fuck’s sake. No fucking wonder this happens_ \- they sneak a look to Padme and swallow as they force themselves to sit up. “Uhh-” they look away and roll out of bed. “That was- um- complicated? Yes, complicated. I’m sorry, I don’t serve the Order-”

 

There was another knock, and a shout, and they finally shout back a “I’M COMING YOU KRIFFIN’ KRIFF,” as they yank open one of their drawers and rip a shirt out. “I mean,” they add as they tug it over their head, “It was complicated! I mean . . . look, Padme, you know I’m honest with you. I just- don’t attend Order meetings. Look- it’s not like I didn’t _try_ \- oh, don’t give me that look,” they sigh as they feel Padme’s glare on their back. “Every time you give me that look, a part of me dies inside.”

 

Another heavy knock, more shouting. They’re walking out of their bedroom in bare feet and pulling their lightsaber off their shelf and into their hands before sliding the door open and looking Anakin over. “This had better be good,” they groan as they slide their saber into their belt. “I’m trying to prevent an argument and PTSD is _not_ a good excuse right as I’m requested for something.”

 

Padme’s staring at the door almost worriedly, watching as Anakin half drags Alexei out into the hall, before closing the door behind them- not enough that she couldn’t still hear, at least snippets of it. Things like ‘emergency mission’ and ‘no wasted time’ and ‘Obi-wan isn’t here and I need someone with me, unfortunately’.

 

Then Alexei’s walking back through the door and glancing to her, before turning to their closet and rummaging through. It’s enough time for Padme to walk over, wrap her arms around them from behind, press her face against their shoulder and lay a light kiss on the bare skin. “Be careful,” she says to them softly. “I worry.”

 

…

 

 _She was right to worry_ , they think as they spit out another glob of blood onto the floor. They’re so disoriented that they stare at it; it’s mostly red, tinted into a rusty brown in some places, and even as they watch, fresh droplets of blood drip into it from their nose, and maybe from their one bleeding eye. They blink furiously to try and get the blood out of their eyes. Just as they think they’ve gotten it out, a trickle of it from their hairline sweeps down, and they blink hard again and then spit at the ground again.

 

 _The med droids are going to hate that_ , they think, before looking up and squinting at the hallway before them. It’s the main hall, they think. The pain is making their vision blurry, though thankfully not much - it’s enough to see Anakin before them, walking with R2 as support. They envy him. _It must be nice to have droid friends_ , they think. The Order never gave them a droid - mostly because they refused to have much to do with them beyond their scripted role. The only reason they went on the mission in the first place was because a battle in the skies had escalated onto a distant planet, and they and Anakin were the only ones on-call who were close enough to do shit.

 

But it took them away from _her_. Padme.

 

 _And speak of the devil_.

 

They can see her, in gorgeous blue robes - she’s walking towards them, and then halting, as if she’s beginning to see what’s actually happening. They crack a grin - they break into a jog, despite the pain in their legs and the mess of their face and the wrist that’s really probably broken from that one move they’d tried against a really gnarly looking Sith. No, because all that’s mattering is that they can see Padme _right there_ , and it’s been a long few days, too long-

 

And of course it can’t be crystal clear and sweet as all hell. Mostly because they’re a few _yards_ away when the spain in their ankle kicks in - and they’re letting out a light “heh” as they finally collapse to their elbows and knees. When they look up, she’s there.

 

They give her a ragged smile, and reach up with a bloody hand.

 

“Hey there, gorgeous,” they whisper. “I missed you. I hope I’m not interrupting you on your way to a meeting?”

 

There’s a short sigh, followed by a rough, “Hey,” in a voice that hardly sounds like Padme’s. But then Alexei is being helped to their feet, and they can tell, for the most part that it really isn’t her at all. It would be embarrassing if they were any less injured.

 

But then there’s a voice behind them. Padme’s pulling them into her arms, fitting them tightly around their waist and trying to support their weight, a worried lilt to her tone when she finally breathes out, “Alexei…” And then, after a brief silence, her lips part again, press to their cheek before she pulls back and looks down the hall. “Let’s get you to the medbay. The healers will have to take a look at you.”

* * *

 

It’s hours before they wake up. And even then, she isn’t sure she can really shove down any of the fears that have come to mind, the worry over their injuries, the glassy look in their eyes and the crookedness of their nose. It’s nearly too much to stomach, but it’s Alexei and- well, Padme couldn’t really see herself leaving their side.

 

It’s Alexei, after all. It’s Alexei, and with them, she isn’t Queen Naberrie or Senator Amidala, she’s just _Padme,_ and she wants to see them when they wake up. Her hand, even now, is curled tightly around theirs as they finally blink open their eyes, still tinged a light yellow, like jaundice. But it’s still enough for the woman to give a relieved laugh, pressing kisses on either side of her partner’s cheeks, pulling them as close as she can without straining them.

 

Her voice is hoarse when she finally speaks. “Kriff, Alex, you nearly gave me a heart attack.” And then she’s clutching them tighter, closer, their bandaged head and arms barely maneuvering around her, holding her against them in spite of all their injuries. She has half a mind to remember she needs to change the bandages, though the rest of her is fixated on this moment, being here, with Alex, as long as she could.

 

Padme eventually does pull away, fishing some bacta patches and gauze from the side table, reaching out to begin undoing those wound around their wrist and shoulder, pulling them loose before pressing the patches against the slightly-bloodied skin, and undoing the bundles of gauze so she could better encompass their arm. “They need to be redressed every eight hours,” she finally tells them, her eyes catching theirs, smiling faintly. “I’ll take care of it- take care of you. Not sure when they’ll let you leave the bay yet, but hopefully it isn’t long before you’re back in our quarters, where you belong.”

 

It’s not easy to make out her face like this, with all the bright lights and the poison in their eyes still - but they can make her out well enough. That heart-shaped face, the long sway of her brown hair over one shoulder, and the plump pink lips swooped into a heartfelt smile. Alexei can’t help but smile back. They’re not sure that their smile is full of all their teeth, because everything hurts and they can barely remember fighting that brute of a General, but Padme isn’t upset, so it must be fine.

 

“Hey,” they croak out. They can’t help but smile as Padme picks up their other arm, unwrapping it in similar manner to the first. They reach up and touch her cheek with their fingers, smile only growing as Padme doesn’t move, and lets them linger there. It’s funny. Funny, for some reason they can’t think of, but for all of the goddamn pain they had to deal with, in that single battle, they wouldn’t trade the moment for the world. Not when Padme looks so perfect and they feel so safe.

 

“I missed you, baby,” they croak out again, with the same grin. They can barely hear her wonder why they’re smiling, when they’re clearly in so much pain, and they just laugh. Laugh, and close their eyes, and say, “B’cause I missed you and now I don’t have to, hon. You’re . . . you’re cosy. I like it. Who did I run into? Their hands weren’t as warm as yours. You’re so cosy, baby.”

 

“I think we can save that for another time,” Padme grins, half tempted to spit it out and tell them _you literally mistook Obi-wan for me._ “Your head’s still in pretty bad shape… going to have to stay here for a little longer. Healers told me I could go, but what can I say? I love you too much to leave.” She kisses their forehead, this time, leaning over the bed, before whispering, softly, “My brave knight.”

 

There’s a second where she simply stares at Alexei, unwilling to move her eyes from their bruised face or slightly incoherent gaze. It’s so much, knowing just how badly they’d been hurt, how much they’d suffered in the fight… and yet somehow it’s all too pleasant that they’re thinking of her, even now. And it might be selfish- Padme knows it is, really- but she’s happy they’re thinking of her. She’s happy they’re waking up to her.

 

She leans down to press kisses along their jaw, against the skin of their neck, hands sliding into theirs and linking their fingers, almost as if she’s forgotten how to let go. And it’s only then that she finally hears a cough, and is startled to look over to see Ani- _she hadn’t even remembered he was in the same room-_ staring at them with a bewildered, drugged-out grin on his face.

 

“Seriously, if you guys are gonna fuck, get a different room. Although I can’t r-recommend… it. Strenuous activity and all. Might set them back in their progress.” There’s a disgruntled tone to the words, before he’s turning over to peer at Alexei, eyes widening just enough to take them in. “ _Ohhh, son of a bantha._ You got fucked up, _bad,_ ‘lex. Nn… d-don’t distract the healers too much. Artoo is becoming bad company. Keeps… buzzing all th’ time.”

 

They can sense Padme blushing before they sense anything else. They narrow their eyes at Anakin and just spit out, “Maybe he’s buzzing over your cock, Anakin. You were leaning . . . nngh, _leaning_ on him the whole way back to the Temple. Have you built a Slot D for him yet? Y’know? The D’s for the di-”

 

And then there are hands over their mouth and they nearly jump out of their skin. They look up and give Padme a little while as she silences them, trying to give her puppy eyes if only because _that’s my mouth you don’t know where it’s been_. And then they hear the sound of a smack and a groan and they’re finally let go, if only so they can see Anakin wincing and rubbing his head as Obi-wan stands over him.

 

They’re not drugged - pretty sure they aren’t - but it doesn’t stop them from saying, “ _Thank you, Obi-wan_. Though I insist next time you dress less like Padme. That was fucking confusing.”

 

“Good to see you in good spirits,” he says with a curt nod. “But next time, I advise you not to step into an astigma cloud and then trust your eyesight.”

 

“H-Hey! You shouldn’t-” they lean over, nearly off their cot; they point a finger at Obi-wan. “D-Don’t mock the _disabled_.”

 

“Yeah, that’s really rude of you, Master. They’re an invalid.”

 

He just shakes his head. “I can’t believe you’re acting like this _without_ the use of drugs.”

 

“I’m too powerful for drugs. The drugs just get scared and run away. S’the pain that does it,” they say before looking back to Padme. Just looking at them makes them melt a little; they smile as they sink a little bit more off their cot. “Padme, tell him, they didn’t give me drugs. Funny things happen when they do and if they did I’d be like that General I fought, except on steroids.”

 

Padme raises a brow, glancing to Obi-wan. It doesn’t take her more than a second. “They gave them drugs.”

 

“ _Heeeeeeey. Padmeeeee._ ”

 

“Not _enough,_ though.” A pause. “I don’t understand why you’d wanna be _too powerful_ for drugs. I mean-” a slight _hic_ escapes Anakin’s mouth, “- _‘m_ s’posed to be the Chosen One, and I just want _more._ Kriff, it’s even better than that one time, when I was on Corellia, a-and… Obi-wan, you remember? There was that Twi’lek dancer, and- and there was some weird powder that looked sparkly. And you literally-”

 

The hand catches him in the head again, only causing the padawan to wince, and pull away slightly. “Wish Osiris was here… maybe he could make them shut up.”

 

Padme sighs, loudly, shaking her head, before giving a chuckle as she glanced between them. Her eyes caught Obi-wan’s, briefly, before voicing the thought they both shared. “You guys have a horrible case of sibling rivalry. I’d hate to see what you’re like on the field together.”

 

“Nnn . . . he’s cool,” they mutter as they shift enough to lay their head in her lap. “He . . . he took out ‘bunch of droids. He was a good soldier. I f-found a General. Dun remember his name. He was . . .was . . . big, hulking guy. Manhandled me a lot. How I got the broken limbs,” they poke her with a finger before going lax, tucking their face against the fabrics of her blouse. “F-Finally took him out with a swift strike while he was s-spraining my ankle . . . was pretty good. Anakin found me still caught in his dead grasp. N’then we let the droids retreat. No negotiations. Think we just . . . just . . . piss’d the Sith,” they curl up, closer to Padme, and sigh. “Hon,” they mumble, “Missed you. Warm . . . warm body, missed being held . . .”

 

“I missed you too, dearheart,” she finally replies, pulling Alexei closer and letting them curl into her, their eyes fluttering open before blinking shut again with a soft yawn. She can’t even describe the feeling of holding them in her arms, can’t describe anything about this moment other than _my Alex,_ but that’s more than enough for her.

 

“I love you.”

* * *

 

 

It is a _relief_. No more antsiness, no more tenseness, none of it. They feel like a burden has been lifted off of their shoulders and for that, they cannot express it in words.

 

Alexei lets their mind wander as they walk down the halls. They’re looking for Osiris; they can sense him in the periphery of their Force sight, but he keeps moving, so they keep walking. Their mind is set on the night just a few days back; they’d been so nervous, when Padme had gently pressed them down onto the bed and began disrobing them, but for once - for _once_ \- there was no interruption. No Anakin, no missions. Just Padme touching them _everywhere_ , spreading apart their thighs with soft hands, leaving kisses everywhere that bloomed into harsh purples and pinks.

 

It was _divine_.

 

And thank goodness for that, after so long. Thank goodness that Anakin had finally found something to distract him, though they aren’t sure what. They look around the Jedi suites with a sigh and a smile. Whatever it was that was entertaining him now, at least it kept him away from them and Padme . . . it’d been so long since they’d been able to lie together like that, and Alexei is surprised at how much lighter they feel, how much freer it is. They don’t feel so worn down anymore. It’s a goddamn relief.

 

Though, it still begged the question . . . Alexei finds themselves muttering it to themselves as they round the corner.

 

“What did he find to entertain himself with?”

 

They look up. And stop.

 

“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.”

 

They’re tripping back onto their ass as they back up, eyes wide, staring at- at fucking _Anakin Skywalker pinning his master up against the wall_. They blink, trying to think of what to say. “I- I-I didn’t mean-”

 

The only thing that comes is a soft laugh, almost pushed away by the smirk threatening to take over the teenager’s face as he turns away just enough to offer a wave to the startled looking former sith. There’s a glee that Anakin can’t really hide when Alexei backs away, still lying on the floor, and he just blinks a couple times, softly. “Huh… y’know, I think I had a force vision about you showing up just about now. Seeing you fall on your ass in person is much more satisfying though.”

 

There’s a startled gasp from in front of him, and the blonde’s pressing his face against the crook of Obi-wan’s shoulder again, half nuzzling his face into the man’s chest, thumb teasing the skin exposed from beneath his tunics with a tiny hum.

 

“So, master…” a pause. “Just for the record, I’m a Jedi on the streets, but a Sith in the sheets.”

 

There’s an awkward cough.

 

“. . . you know what?” Alexei says without moving, “I change my mind. This was more of a surprise when you weren’t talking. Now you’re just making a fool of yourself.”

 

“... why are you still here?”

 

“Oh, _fine_ ,” they growl as they get up and dust themselves off. “But for the record, at least Padme and I did it in _private_. You’re in the middle of the goddamn hall.”

 

“In a private sector,” Obi-wan says. Though, as Alexei looks over him, they can’t help but notice how _red_ he seems to be. “Unless you have business this way, I advise you to find another route.”

 

“WHATEVER,” they throw up their hands and turn around, covering their eyes and stomping off. “Have fun with fucking Obi- _whine_ , Anakin.”

 

There’s silence, for a brief moment, before Obi-wan speaks up. “They _do_ have a point though, Anakin,” he stays, the stammer a ghost peeking into his voice. “Perhaps your quarters w-would be more-”

 

There's a loud groan. “Just shut up and fuck me. If we aren't having sex in thirty seconds, I'm not even going to _bother_ talking to you for the next _week.”_

 

Anakin is about ready to punch through a wall, and Alexei slowly creeps back down the hallway, in need of bleaching their eyes and ears.


End file.
